


The Call of Vorthulhu.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: 2012 Kink Bingo, Barrayaran anti-mutagenic prejudice, Monologue, Other, Tentacles, Time Period: Reign of Gregor Vorbarra, Time Period: Vorkosigan Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is your first time joining us, let me be the first to welcome you to the Vorbarr Sultana Completely Secret Underground Comedy Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call of Vorthulhu.

**Author's Note:**

> For 2012 Kink Bingo. Kink: Tentacles. Inspired by [this comment thread](http://melannen.dreamwidth.org/321718.html?thread=2881974#cmt2881974), and this may make more sense if you read that first. Thanks to [](http://melannen.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**melannen**](http://melannen.dreamwidth.org/) for the beta!

Hi, everyone. 

If this is your first time joining us, let me be the first to welcome you to the Vorbarr Sultana Completely Secret Underground Comedy Club. The bathroom's over there and I'm sure you've all already become well-acquainted with the bar.

My name's Sasha and I'm here to talk to you tonight about the newest improvement to our fair planet and to our benevolent overlords -- let me finish -- to our benevolent, _perfect_ overlords, the Vor. Who shall become all the more perfect soon, because they, like the perverted pathetic parading parasites they are, are upgrading. Yes, that's right, they're upgrading. It's so terrible for them, you know. Terrible that their perfection and superiority isn't readily apparent. Terrible that they can still be confused for us. Us lowly dirtfuckers.

But all that is about to change.

I am here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, ImpSec informers in the back, ImpSec informers in the _front_ \--

\--Yes, and the very confused Political Education informer in the middle section over there, stand up, Danny, take a bow. The Grishnov Goon Squad, ladies and gentlemen! We've missed him, too, so come on down and experience his new proclamations tomorrow night! Unless we get raided. And if we do get raided, come anyway. Gotta keep mutie Illyan happy or he'll eat your children, never forget. Oh, if only. Thanks, Danny.

And, ah, moving on... speaking of mutie Illyan, right on topic and hop back to it with both legs tied together and isn't that just like a mutant--

Ladies and gentlemen of the ungentry, I give you: our Vor overlords.

Please, hold your boos to the end. How ever do you expect Illyan's ImpSec sludge to hear over that noise? Thank you. The Vor, my friends, the Vor have found a solution to their terrible problem of us daring to resemble them. It's a canny solution, one I'm sure you'll appreciate.

What? Just say it? Certainly, ma'am, I shall.

Tentacles.

Yes, go ahead, think about that for a moment. Done thinking? Good, you're practically Vor already.

Tentacles, my friends. Yes, tentacles.

No, of course it wouldn't be a mutation, don't be absurd. Vor don't have mutations, that's for us. What the Vor have is style. Elegance. They're not mutants, they're just unique. Special. One day they'll get their skin to match those wonderfully color-coded uniforms that give our good friend Vorbert so many fashion problems. And that, too, wouldn't be a mutation. Perish the thought! Perish the thought! The Vor don't have mutations! 

Don't believe me? Take a look at Vorkosigan's son.

What, you've never seen him? 

Neither have I.

And neither has anyone. Isn't that _fascinating_.

But. Tentacles. They have so many advantages! You know what they can steal from you with two hands, just wait until it's more arms than you can even count. The Counts, you know, can't count. One, two, "oh, does that belong to you?" Two, three, "now it belongs to me." Just you wait. Just you wait. You're going to long for the days when you could cheat your tax without getting eaten in exchange. Long for it.

Feeling violated yet?

Because you think you're getting fucked _now_? Just. You. Wait. Oh, yes. Just you wait.

Can't you just see it, Vorkosigan fucking la belle Barrayar with his giant -- yes, sir, I was at Escobar, too, that's why I said it was _giant_ \-- with his giant and frankly numerous tentacles? See him squeezing the planet the way his famed ancestor did that drummer boy's purse. Can you see it? The whole planet screaming as Vorkosigan's taut twisting tentacles consume their way through the mantle and core until nothing's left, nothing but dust and ruin and informers?

And imagine musty old Vortala. No more walking cane for him. No, it's the sleek balance of a rushing stream, water rising and falling in currents, splashing helplessly on rocks, pounding and pulsating, rippling like new muscle. He'll stagger forward on those tentacles, gripping and releasing, thrusting his way across the planet in Vorkosigan's wake. The one-two punch, now the one-two fuck.

You have oaths to give, I wonder? Watch your hands now when you do it, you might not get them back. Instead of an embrace of hands, now it's an embrace of whole. They won't be content to hold only your hands in theirs when they can hold, oh, so much more. You don't need to imagine their webs tangling you up and trapping you anymore. Now you'll be able to feel it as their tentacles wrap around your body and start to squeeze. You'll feel it. Oh, how you'll feel it. 

And how will it feel? Filthy and fetid -- the Vor touch now finally revealing the slimy, slithering snakes they are. Pulsing, throbbing, burning. You'll feel it. Oh, how you'll feel it.

But enough about how they'll fuck you. That's bad enough, but it's not all. Not all, not at all. Those monstrous mounds of meat and muscle are fast. Very fast. They won't need horses anymore to run you down, not the Vor, not with tentacles to use! Your grandfather was trampled, you say? Your children will huddle together and tell stories of how you were squeezed until the last drop was gone. Those tentacles, let me tell you. They're going to be faster than you -- oh, you thought you might be able to get ahead? Sorry, the Vor have tentacles now. You're left in the dust. How terrible for you.

Just. You. Wait. On, just you wait.

And you won't have to wait long. All across this city, the Vor will wake up tomorrow with tentacles. The Vor are now better armed than ever. Was your daughter dreaming of playing for the symphony? Was your son winning hand-to-hand competitions? Are you an accomplished artist? Did you ever have a success that caused a Vor to fail? Those days are over. You can't beat them at anything anymore. It's always been their games you've played, and now they've stolen back all of the advantages we've bled for. The board is tipped, the pieces are falling. 

You're not Vor, you don't have slimy, slithering, sucking tentacles to grab your serfs and put them back into their proper place. You have your own two hands, your own two feet, your sinews, your bones, your blood. And that's all that's standing between you now and getting the life choked out of you like a Komarran with a leaky roof.

Yeah. You won't hear _that_ on Radio Free Barrayar, will you? You won't. They'd make a terrible joke about armsmen. I shall refrain. Because it wouldn't do to lower ourselves to discuss what will become of the Vor's trained pets once the Vor are allowed to have more appendages than armsmen.

And you don't want to know.

I know, someone's always saying, the world could change tomorrow, so be ready. That's stupid, the world _is_ going to change tomorrow. It always does. It changes every day. So what are you going to do about it? The Vor are growing tentacles. They're going to consume this planet whole. What are you doing?

Other than pissing yourself, of course.

Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience. Come back and see us again tomorrow night.

If we're not raided.


End file.
